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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159274">What Could’ve Been</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanderavery998/pseuds/alexanderavery998'>alexanderavery998</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sapphic September 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, Everybody Lives, F/F, Hiking, Lesbian Abigail Hobbs, Moodboard Included, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Season 1 AU, Prompt Fill, Sapphic September, Sapphic September 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:49:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanderavery998/pseuds/alexanderavery998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In another world, before Abigail falls in too deep, she and Marissa go hiking, and Abigail lets her in on her secret — well, sort of.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abigail Hobbs/Marissa Schurr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sapphic September 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What Could’ve Been</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><i>I cross-post here (AO3), Wattpad, and FFN as</i> @alexanderavery998. <i>If you find my fics anywhere else, please let me know, because that means they have been reposted without my permission.</i></p><p><b>Prompt:</b> Forest</p><p>Even though September is long gone and October is more than halfway over, I’m still chugging along with my ideas for Sapphic September. I love Abigail and wish she could’ve gotten a happier ending, so here is my attempt to give her (and Marissa) one. As always, I love comments, so please leave them if you are so inclined. Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>A part of Abigail feared that no matter what she did, she could never escape her father. But she still hoped, perhaps naïvely, to scrabble together at least <em> one </em> tiny piece of her life that wasn’t his, wasn’t fundamentally connected to him in some way. She clung to it like brittle driftwood tossed by a stormy sea. Her hope, and her will to live, to <em> survive</em>, were the only things keeping her from joining the two girls who had already gone missing in Minnesota. The dots had not yet been connected between the cases, but it was only a matter of time before they were.</p><p>She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t.</p><p><em> Eat or be eaten. </em> What else was she to do?</p><p>. . .</p><p>Abigail announced over dinner, as casually as she could and directed mostly at her mother, that she was going hiking with Marissa over the weekend. <em> One thing</em>, she begged to any god or deity that would listen. <em> Let me have this one thing, and I’ll... </em> well, she would what? Stop acquiescing to her father? Show him her neck and be done with it? Tell the next girl to run?</p><p><em> Whatever you want from me</em>, she thought. <em> Whatever you want, just give me this one weekend with Marissa, and I’ll go quietly. </em></p><p>Dinner passed without protest. Abigail let herself hope that she was in the clear...and then her father stopped her in the hallway before she could reach her bedroom.</p><p>Nobody had answered her pleas. She was all alone.</p><p>“You’re going hiking with Marissa.” It was a statement, and yet a question at the same time.</p><p>Abigail forced a smile. “Yes.”</p><p>Sometimes, she struggled to look her father in the eyes. Other times, like now, she couldn’t look away. They had eyes of the exact same color. It was like looking in a mirror. A mirror that said it loved her so much that it couldn’t bear to see her go.</p><p>
  <em> You’ll always be your father’s daughter, Abigail. There’s no escaping it. </em>
</p><p>“Don’t forget that we have another college tour next weekend.”</p><p>Abigail’s heart dropped into her stomach, but while her smile faltered, it did not fall. “Okay, Dad.”</p><p>He nodded and looked as if he was about to walk away, but then stepped in closer and put his hand on her shoulder. “Be careful.” His eyes bored into hers, pinning her in place like a butterfly to a display board. “I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to you.”</p><p>He kissed her on the forehead and then moved away down the hall to the kitchen, where he would do the dishes and smile and laugh and spin his wife around to 60s rock, while his only daughter curled up in a ball on her bedroom floor and hyperventilated.</p><p>. . .</p><p>Abigail hugged her backpack tightly to her chest as Marissa drove them to the hiking trails that Saturday morning. The backpack was heavier than what she would usually carry, but something had driven her to pack far more than she needed for one hike. The closer they got to the forest, the more ridiculous she felt about it. There was no logical need for the excess food and clothes she’d packed. It wasn’t as if they would get lost in the woods or spend more than several hours there. She told herself the extra supplies were for Marissa, who was a very inexperienced hiker. Maybe Marissa would need something in her bag and then Abigail would be grateful instead of embarrassed that she’d brought so much with her. It was definitely <em> not </em> the manifestation of a childish impulse to run away from home. Nope, not at all. She tightened her hands into fists, nails cutting into the palms of her hands.</p><p><em> Why are you even trying? You know you can’t escape him. He won’t let you go. He’ll </em> never <em> let you go. </em></p><p>Marissa suddenly broke the silence, as if she could read Abigail’s thoughts. “I still can’t believe your dad agreed to this.”</p><p>Abigail jerked her head up to stare at her, her heart jackrabbiting against her ribs. “Really?”</p><p>Marissa nodded and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, keeping her eyes on the road and thus missing the distress that crossed her friend’s face. “Yeah, I get the impression your dad doesn’t like me much.”</p><p>Abigail chewed on her bottom lip and willed herself to breathe. “He’s just very protective of me.”</p><p>“Protective or overbearing?”</p><p>The ghost of a laugh escaped her throat. “A little of both.”</p><p>“Sounds like my mom. God, I hate that bitch.”</p><p>Abigail loosened her hands until they were no longer clenched in fists and watched Marissa as she ranted about her mother. She had always thought that Marissa was a cooler, prettier version of herself, with the same pale skin, blue eyes, and dark brown hair. But now..... Bile rose in her throat and she looked away.</p><p><em> She looks like me</em>, Abigail remembered thinking when she had faced the first girl her dad had chosen. The illusion had only been shattered by the difference in eye color: she had had brown eyes instead of blue. Abigail had been secretly grateful for it. She didn’t think she would be able to look into the mirrored eyes of a girl that looked just like her and laugh and lie, and maybe her father had struggled with it, too. In a cruel twist of fate, it was likely Marissa’s blue eyes, along with her proximity to Abigail, that was keeping her safe. A mirror-image girl going missing from their own town was too risky. But from seemingly disconnected college campuses, well...</p><p>It was best not to think about it. Abigail tried not to think about <em> any </em> of it: the mirror-image girls, the physical similarities between her and Marissa, or how she felt when she was with her, a mixture of sweaty palms and a fluttery stomach. Too many complications. Too many layers.</p><p>It was better not to think.</p><p>“Anyway,” Marissa was saying, “she’s not at all happy that I’m going out hiking with you, but she can fuck off for all I care. I hate her so much. I can never win with her.” She screwed up her face and put on a half-decent impression of her mother, at least judging from the few times Abigail had met her. “‘Don’t wear so much makeup, Marissa, you look like a whore!’ ‘Don’t go outside barefaced, you look ill.’ ‘Don’t talk like that, it makes you sound like an empty-headed valley girl!’ ‘Don’t swear, it makes you sound like a man.’ Like, Jesus Christ. You remember that she didn’t want me in cheerleading because it’s too ‘prissy’? But now I express interest in hiking and watching football with you and she says she’s worried I’m acting like a boy!”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Abigail said, and she meant it sincerely. After an awkward pause while she fished around for something useful or relevant to say, she came up with, “Sometimes I think my dad would’ve preferred a boy.”</p><p>“My mom would’ve preferred a docile clone of herself,” Marissa said distastefully. Then, as if it had just occurred to her exactly what Abigail had said, she glanced from the road to her and back again, her tone turning warmer. “<em>I </em> wouldn’t prefer you as a boy. You’re perfect the way you are right now.”</p><p>The fluttering in Abigail’s stomach was back, along with a flush that she was sure was visible, if Marissa had been looking. “Thank you. So are you.”</p><p>Marissa smiled widely. After a minute of contemplative quiet, she reached out and turned on the radio, which they listened to for the rest of the drive.</p><p>. . .</p><p>Autumn in Minnesota was always beautiful, but especially once the leaves started changing. From late September into October, the trees shifted color like chameleons vying with each other to best match the shades of a sunset. This was clearly visible as Marissa pulled into the parking lot and parked her mom’s minivan near the start of the hiking trails. The trees’ leaves were a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, yellows, browns, and greens in every direction. Walking under them was like walking beneath a sky on fire.</p><p>Abigail climbed out of the car and adjusted her backpack so that its weight didn’t dig into her shoulders, willing herself to relax. She could worry about the situation with her father later. This trip was something for herself, a moment where she could spend time with Marissa and pretend for a few hours that she was a normal teenager with normal teenage cares and worries. She wasn’t going to let her father take this away from her.</p><p>She <em> wasn’t</em>.</p><p>“Are you ready?” she asked Marissa, injecting as much energy into her voice as she could.</p><p>“Yup.” Marissa swept her arm out in front of her in a dramatic fashion. “Lead the way, o wise one!”</p><p>Abigail smiled and led them up the path.</p><p>There was always something so peaceful about being out in nature, and this was no exception. The wind rustled the leaves softly as they hiked up the trail. Every so often, a strong gust would come along and scatter a handful of leaves from the trees, which floated down like fiery snow. The sky was pale blue and dotted with clouds. Beyond the crunch of footsteps along the path, the whispering wind, and the occasional birdsong, the world was quiet. Even Marissa’s chatter had stilled. Abigail suspected that a part of herself would always be tense and guarded, but to the extent with which she could relax, she did. She was in her element. Abigail had always felt welcome in nature. This was where she was meant to be.</p><p>The girls walked along quietly for some time, only breaking the silence every once in a while to comment on the weather, or a squirrel bounding across the trail, or the rare sight of other hikers. Eventually, Marissa stopped in her tracks and stuck out an arm to stop Abigail, too.</p><p>“Look!” she whispered.</p><p>Up ahead, walking with soft, delicate steps through the trees, was a fully-grown doe. It was a white-tailed deer with smooth brown fur and soulful, big dark brown eyes.</p><p>“It’s beautiful.” Marissa’s whisper was half-excited, half-awed.</p><p>Her friend’s reaction was both cute and bittersweet; Abigail remembered seeing her first live deer. She also remembered her first kill, and the horror that had swept over her, followed by faint nausea and then numbness.</p><p>“They really are beautiful animals,” Abigail said. The doe’s ears twitched, catching the full volume of her voice, but it didn’t flee. “Intelligent, too.”</p><p>Marissa picked up on her cues and stopped whispering, though her voice was still softer than Abigail’s. “Have you and your dad ever hunted here?”</p><p>“No.” <em> That’s why I picked it. </em> “We usually hunt pretty close to his cabin. That way we don’t have to move very far. Keeps the deer fresh.”</p><p>Marissa eyed the doe picking its way through the underbrush. “I don’t think I could take a life like that. Seems cruel.”</p><p>Abigail’s stomach twisted suddenly. For a moment, she feared that she would throw up, but the nausea passed in a crashing wave. “We honor every part of them,” she said softly. “Otherwise, my dad says it’s just murder.”</p><p>Marissa shot her a look. “That’s...that’s a little creepy. But I think I get what he means.”</p><p>Uneasiness crawled down Abigail’s spine. She wanted to move on from here, change the subject, anything to steer the conversation away from this minefield, but Marissa was still standing there, studying her.</p><p>“Do you like it?” she asked after a pause.</p><p>Abigail swallowed. “The family bonding aspect of it.” It was mostly truthful: hunting was the only time she felt as if she could fully understand her father.</p><p>That understanding was both a blessing and a curse.</p><p>“I guess if I had a way to bond with my mom, I’d take it,” Marissa conceded, and some of the sick tension in Abigail’s gut lessened at the admission. “I swear we don’t have <em> anything </em> in common.” Marissa’s face tightened, and her next words were bitter. “I think she hates me.”</p><p>“Maybe she just doesn’t know how to show her love,” Abigail said hesitantly.</p><p>“I dunno. I doubt it.” Marissa kicked the ground with her boot, and the doe’s head shot up, its tail quivering. Marissa didn’t notice, but Abigail watched as the doe bounded away to put distance between itself and the girls. “People say love hurts, but I think that’s bullshit. Love shouldn’t hurt or destroy. I don’t think that’s love.”</p><p>Something ached deep in Abigail’s chest. She tugged on Marissa’s arm, and they began to walk again, slower now, arm in arm.</p><p>“What do you think love is?” Abigail asked.</p><p>Marissa sighed. “Love is...well, it’s not forceful. It’s not destructive. It’s not ‘if you loved me you’d do this’ or ‘if you loved me you’d give up that.’ But it <em> is </em> vulnerable. It’s patient and supportive. It’s not manipulative or selfish.” She shrugged. “That’s about all I have.”</p><p>“You’ve thought about that a bit, huh?”</p><p>The corner of Marissa’s lip twitched up, clearly amused. “Just a little.” She nudged her with their linked arms. “What do <em> you </em> think love is?”</p><p>The tension in Abigail’s gut reared its ugly head again. She had thought she had known what love was until recently, but now, she was adrift with nothing to hold on to, her support yanked out from under her with no warning. “Um...I suppose love is devotion. Devotion, and service, and...and seeing the person you love as an extension of yourself.”</p><p>They walked in silence, then, processing what the other had said. It stretched out so long that Abigail was beginning to wonder if she’d said the wrong thing and if Marissa was going to stay quiet for the rest of the trip, when Marissa stopped walking near a bend in the trail and asked if they could take a break. Abigail agreed, and they settled down off to the side, in a bed of fallen leaves along a small upward slope.</p><p>“It’s interesting how our definitions differ,” Marissa said, after taking a drink from her water bottle. “Yours emphasizes positive actions, while mine is more of a ‘what <em> not </em> to do’ list.” She snorted. “It’s fitting. Don’t know if my mom really cares about anyone beyond herself. If I ever have kids, I’m gonna make sure that I don’t treat them the way my mom treats me. I want them to know what it’s like to have loving parents. I don’t want them to feel trapped with me.” Then, after a very long pause: “You know, sometimes I think I’d be better off if I just ran away from home.”</p><p>Just like that, Abigail’s over-packed backpack suddenly felt as if it were burning a hole into her spine where it rested there. “Really?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Marissa glanced at her and then let out an awkward sound that was almost a laugh, reaching out to grasp her hand. “Don’t look so worried! I must sound like I’m being really dramatic. I’m only half-serious, Abi. I wouldn’t leave you like that.”</p><p>Abigail swallowed, but the lump didn’t budge from her throat. Marissa settled back into the fallen leaves on the slope, unaware of Abigail’s distress, and shifted her grasp on Abigail’s hand so that their fingers became intertwined.</p><p>“It would be so nice to leave, though,” Marissa said with a sigh. “No longer have to deal with my mother. I could get an apartment somewhere far away from here, get a job. Start over.” Marissa turned her head to look at Abigail. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before, but did you know I’ve always wanted to travel?”</p><p>Abigail shook her head. She wanted to speak, but she didn’t know if the words could escape. Her words were as trapped as her — they couldn’t escape. She couldn’t escape.</p><p>
  <em> I want to escape. </em>
</p><p>Marissa was still speaking, her words flowing freely and unburdened. “I guess I’d never really let myself wish for it until recently, but yeah, I’d love to travel. See the world.” Marissa sighed. “God, I really wanna leave now. Maybe someday. You know, if I did, you could visit, spend time with me. My place would always be open to you.”</p><p>Marissa squeezed Abigail’s hand. It was such a small throwaway gesture, but tears welled up in her eyes immediately. The leaves on the ground in front of her began to blur and meld together in a swirl of watercolors.</p><p>“Abi? Are you okay?” Marissa sat up. “Oh god, I didn’t upset you, did I?”</p><p>Abigail tried to shake her head or speak, but the only thing that came out was a strangled sob. Marissa released her hand immediately and wrapped her arms around her, enveloping her in the soft, floral notes of her perfume. The comforting gesture was all it took to break the dam. Tears streamed down Abigail’s face and soaked into Marissa’s coat and scarf. Her chest was wound too tightly to breathe, and sobs clawed at her throat and left it scratchy and raw. It was as if everything she had been holding back for months on end was fighting to free itself in one fluid movement, in time with the rapid, panicked beating of her heart that whispered: <em> escape. escape. escape. </em></p><p>“Shh, it’s okay,” Marissa murmured, sounding a little distressed herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— well, if I upset you, I’m sorry.”</p><p>Abigail shook her head vigorously, but couldn’t speak through the wave of emotion that had come crashing down upon her head. Marissa held her and petted her hair and murmured vague comforts until her crying subsided into minimal shaking and heavy breathing. Through the pounding of her head and the nausea in her stomach, Abigail could only think one thing:</p><p>
  <em> I have to escape. </em>
</p><p>“Marissa, I — I have to tell you something.”</p><p>“Anything!” Marissa pulled back to give Abigail space, but still clung tightly to Abigail’s hand. “You know you can tell me anything.”</p><p>“I — well, my dad...he—” Abigail swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Was she really going to do this? <em> Could </em> she really do this?</p><p>She swallowed again and took the plunge. “I think there’s something wrong with him. He’s been saying really weird things and not acting like himself. It’s scaring me. It makes me want to run away from home, too, and I feel ridiculous about it, but...”</p><p>She trailed off and looked at Marissa. Marissa was watching her with wide eyes.</p><p>“That’s...concerning,” Marissa said slowly. “What has he been saying?”</p><p>Here was her chance. It was now or never.</p><p>“It started out with innocuous phrases, like saying he was worried about me or how he didn’t know what he would do with himself when I go off to college. Pretty normal, except it would come out of nowhere. We’d be in line at the grocery store and he’d say, ‘I don’t know how I’ll survive when you leave me,’ or I’d be in the living room and he’d walk in and make me promise that I would visit him every weekend. Then it morphed into how he didn’t know if he could let me go, how it would break his heart, and he would ask how I would feel if he had a heart attack or died because I left my dear father alone.”</p><p>So far, everything she’d said was true. Marissa’s expression had morphed from vague concern to one of stronger worry.</p><p>“Then it was the hunting,” Abigail said. “He wanted me to join him, and I did, but...”</p><p>“...but then he said creepy shit like ‘we have to honor it or it’s murder,’” Marissa finished, and Abigail nodded and let her fill in the blank for her.</p><p>“And then......well, I don’t know how to say this,” she said, and she was completely truthful. She didn’t know how to incriminate her father without incriminating herself, and the idea of ensnaring herself in her own web was too terrifying to contemplate. But Marissa encouraged her forward, so she carved out half- and quarter-truths and focused all her strength on making them feel like <em> the </em> truth. “He started acting the weirdest when we signed up for college tours. He had the final say in everything I did and signed up for. And when he took me to the first tour, he was strangely obsessed with the people around us. Especially the girls our age. Girls that looked...” Abigail swallowed. “Just like me.</p><p>“He kept saying, ‘That girl could be you, that girl could be you.’ I couldn’t get him to stop staring. He paid more attention to them than to the tour. He left me at a meeting for new students, and when he came back, he said that he was afraid of my safety if I were to stay on campus, he didn’t think it was safe enough there, and we should go home. But that weekend...”</p><p>Abigail had begun to shake. She could feel it, feel how her muscles wavered with tension and fear, and wondered if Marissa could feel it where she clasped her hand.</p><p>“He disappeared for most of the day. He came home much later, with fresh groceries and meat from the butcher’s, and I didn’t think anything of it. Until two days later, when he showed me a new missing person bulletin, and it was a girl who had disappeared from the same campus we had visited for tours, and...and she looked just like me, just like those girls he’d pointed out.”</p><p>Marissa’s expression morphed into one of slowly dawning horror.</p><p>“He told me that that was what happened on college campuses to girls like me and I couldn’t go to school there because of it. She’d disappeared only hours after we’d gotten home. He said if we had been there any longer, it would’ve been me. He would bring her disappearance up from time to time, but never in front of my mom, and he would tell me over and over again that he couldn’t lose me, that he couldn’t bear it if he lost me.”</p><p>Abigail took in a shuddering breath. “And then it happened again. We went on a tour at another college, he stared at girls that looked like me and commented on the resemblance, disappeared for hours on end over the weekend, and then a few days later, he showed me a missing person bulletin for another girl, from the campus we’d just visited, who’d gone missing only hours after we’d been there...and she looked just like me.”</p><p>She was crying again, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. It didn’t matter that some of the details were missing or off; she could still hear his voice clearly in her ears, as if he were right in front of her, and see the mirror-image girls she’d smiled and laughed with, and it was almost too much to bear. “He kept saying, ‘this could’ve been you, she looks just like you, look, sweetheart, you have the same height and weight and everything. I can’t let you go here, it’s too dangerous, that could’ve been you. It would’ve been you.’”</p><p>Marissa’s grip on Abigail’s hand was crushing.</p><p>“Now I don’t know what to do. We’re going on another tour next weekend. I — I think he’s the reason why they’re missing. He keeps saying that if it happens again, if another girl disappears, it could be me who is next. It’s like — it’s like he wants it to be me so that I can never leave him.”</p><p>Marissa looked as though she was going to be sick. “Oh my god. Oh, <em> Abigail.” </em> She threw her arms around her and held her tightly to her chest as if she never wanted to let go. Abigail didn’t know if she was shaking still, or if Marissa was, or if they both were, but it didn’t matter. “Oh my god. Forget my dysfunctional family shit, I am <em> not </em> letting you go back home. We have to report this. And then you’re coming home with me. Fuck my mom, I don’t care what she says. I can’t let you go back there.”</p><p>“W-what if they don’t believe me? What if nobody believes me?”</p><p>“They’ll believe you. You have no reason to lie.”</p><p>Abigail’s heart clenched. Marissa climbed to her feet and tugged on Abigail’s arm, but Abigail didn’t move, frozen where she was sitting.</p><p>“Do <em> you </em> believe me?” Abigail whispered.</p><p>“Of <em> course </em> I do. You’re my best friend. I know you and I trust you. Now come on, I’m not letting you out of my sight until we get this figured out!”</p><p>. . .</p><p>The next 24 hours would later become a blur in Abigail’s memory, diluted by fear and resurfaced trauma. Marissa drove them straight to the country sheriff’s office, her fingers bone white where they gripped the wheel. She did an excellent job at staying calm, even though Abigail knew she had to be freaking out, and stayed by Abigail’s side the entire time. Abigail told the officers the same story she’d told Marissa, except with a bit more detail (the exact dates, as accurate time stamps as she could give without incriminating herself, the missing person bulletins, and the campuses they’d visited). She told them where her father’s cabin was and where the evidence might be, including how good her father was at using all of a deer’s resources. The implications were crystal clear. The officers looked grim.</p><p>Abigail called her mother’s cell phone as Marissa drove them to her house afterwards, trying to suppress the shaking of her voice. Her mother, oblivious to what had just occurred, agreed that Abigail could stay at Marissa’s for a sleepover. As soon as the call was over, Abigail shut off her cell phone and dumped it in her backpack. She knew her father wouldn’t be happy about her staying at Marissa’s, but that was nothing in comparison to how he was going to feel when the arrest warrant went out and he was called in for questioning. Her mother, too. Abigail could only imagine how many frantic phone calls she would get when it happened, and she didn’t have the energy to deal with any of it.</p><p>The rest of the day and evening passed in a haze. Marissa wheedled her mom into ordering pizza, which Abigail barely touched. Then they watched mindless movies while Marissa held Abigail tightly to her, as if she could fortify and protect Abigail just with her touch. Abigail fell asleep like that, with her head tucked against Marissa’s chest and tear stains on her cheeks.</p><p>Abigail woke suddenly with a dry mouth and pounding headache in the early hours of the morning. She extracted herself from Marissa’s grip without waking her and rushed to the bathroom to throw up. After, Abigail rinsed out her mouth and splashed cold water on her face. Her reflection looked unusually wan in the mirror. It was as if she’d aged several years overnight.</p><p>When she climbed back into bed, Marissa murmured in her sleep and snuggled closer to her. Something about the gesture was so sweet and wholesome that Abigail found herself crying again. She couldn’t fall back asleep, so she lay there in the dark, wiping away her tears and listening to Marissa’s even breathing. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought she could get used to sleeping in the same bed as Marissa. It was something that she’d thought about before, but now was not the time for revelations, so she tucked it away for later.</p><p>She was very good at compartmentalizing.</p><p>Later that morning, after breakfast, Abigail finally dared to turn on her cell phone. The screen lit up with 64 missed calls and 13 texts from her mother.</p><p>There were no messages or calls from her father.</p><p>She dialed her mother’s number with shaking hands. Her mother picked up on the second ring, and from her raspy voice, it was obvious that she’d been crying. Abigail stepped outside of the house and listened to her relay that her father had been arrested and taken into custody the afternoon before in connection to two missing girls in the state, and that she wanted, no, <em> demanded </em> that Abigail to come home immediately.</p><p>Something hot and sick and furious unfurled in Abigail’s chest. There was no ‘oh my god, are you okay’ or ‘I’ve been worried about you.’ Not even an ‘I love you and I’m in shock and I want you here.’ Just basic facts and the demand to come home. Abigail clenched her jaw.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“‘No’?! What do you mean, ‘no’?!”</p><p>“I mean, no, I’m not coming home, Mom. I think Dad is dangerous. I don’t want to come home while he’s still there, or when he could come back at any moment.”</p><p>Her mother spluttered on the other end of the line, something about how Abigail didn’t <em> really </em> believe her dad had anything to do with those girls going missing, right? and where was this sentiment coming from, as she had always been so close to her father and had seemed fine with him even yesterday? and anyway, she wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer, so Abigail needed to come home <em> right now </em> while everything was being sorted out so that they could bring her dad back home as soon as possible.</p><p>“No,” Abigail repeated. “I’m not coming home.”</p><p>“Why <em> not?” </em></p><p>Abigail breathed in and out deeply to stabilize herself. “I’ve had fears about Dad’s behavior for a while, but I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure if they were true and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing,” she half-lied. “But now I’m worried that I was right, and I don’t want to come back until I’m sure that he’s not a threat to either of us.”</p><p>She could picture her mother shaking her head desperately and pacing back and forth on the other end. “But <em> why? </em> Why are you suddenly afraid of him? Your dad wouldn’t hurt a fly.”</p><p>“Mom, he hunts <em> regularly!” </em></p><p>“And you’ve gone hunting with him, but I’m not afraid of you, now am I?”</p><p>Abigail recoiled from her phone, stung. “You don’t believe me. What if I told you that the two girls went missing from the college campuses where Dad and I went on tours? Or that Dad has been saying some really suspicious stuff?”</p><p>“Abigail Grace, this is ridiculous!” her mom burst out. “Stop being obstinate and come home. Our family needs all the support it can get right now.”</p><p>And, well, that was that, wasn’t it? Because if her own mother wasn’t going to believe her, wasn’t going to even let herself imagine the possibility that Abigail could be correct in finding her father dangerous, Abigail <em> really </em> wasn’t going back. She was 18, after all. She was a legal adult, separate from her parents. She was smart and capable with her hands, and she had enough money saved in her account that she would not be in immediate financial trouble. She’d never been super close to her mother, anyway, having bonded with her father so early in life, and look where that had gotten her. Abigail was suddenly fiercely, deliriously glad that she had packed so much for the hiking trip. She was also scared, uncertain, resentful, and many other things, but she was mostly righteously angry, and that made her certain, for once, about what she was about to do.</p><p><em> “No. </em> No, I’m not coming home! Maybe you’re not afraid of him, but I am. I know now what he’s capable of, and I don’t want to be near him. I love you, Mom, I do, but I need to do this for me. I’m a legal adult now and can make my own decisions, and this is mine. I’m not coming home.”</p><p>A tiny part of Abigail had hoped that her mom would ask what kinds of things her father had said to her, inquire if she was okay, or say ‘I love you too,’ anything other than cling stubbornly to the idea that her husband’s arrest and daughter’s defiance was all a massive misunderstanding. But it was not to be. Garrett Jacob Hobbs was a predator lurking in plain sight, and her mother had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.</p><p>Her father had been the only thing that had connected them, and now, he would be what drove them apart.</p><p>A couple minutes later, Abigail hung up and reentered the house. Marissa greeted her at the bottom of the stairs, looking hopeful and worried all at once.</p><p>“My dad’s been arrested,” Abigail said as way of greeting. “My mom wants me to come home, but I said no.” She gave her a feeble smile. “She didn’t take it very well.”</p><p>“But did you tell her?” Marissa pressed. “That you were the one to alert the police? Or at least that you’re worried that the accusation is true?”</p><p>Abigail shrugged. “Yeah. She didn’t believe me. Said my fears are irrational.”</p><p>Marissa gaped at her. “Oh, Abi. I’m so sorry. That’s such a bitch move.” She swept her into a hug and held her tightly. When she pulled away, her hands lingered on Abigail’s shoulders. “What are you going to do now?”</p><p>“I guess I’ll get a job, save up my money, and get an apartment somewhere far away from here, unless my mom decides that she’s willing to hear me out.”</p><p>“I want to come with you.” The words came out in a rush, and Marissa looked somewhat bashful for the first time in their entire acquaintance, a flush spreading across her pale cheeks. “I mean, it’ll be easier if you split the rent with somebody. I have a job, and I know working at the mall doesn’t get me much, but I should be able to pay my share. We could figure out bills and shit together. And you won’t be alone, then. I don’t care where we go. We could go wherever you want.”</p><p>Abigail looked Marissa in the eyes, her deep blue mirror-image eyes, and smiled. “If you really want to, I would like that very much.”</p><p>And maybe everything had gone to hell, and Abigail didn’t know what her future held, but this...well, this felt right. Her father be damned, she was going to carve out a life separate from him, after all.</p>
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